


we move like the ocean

by thanatopis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:58:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5002114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanatopis/pseuds/thanatopis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Transferring to the University of Tokyo had been in Daichi Sawamura's plans, meeting Kuroo Tetsurou had not.</p><blockquote>
  <p>His bottom lip was caught between a perfect pair of straight, white teeth, trying to hide his impish grin and for some strange reason, the man reminded Daichi of a feline. Or more accurately, one of those street-smart, back alley cats that you always heard hissing loudly at night, picking fights with whatever wandered into their territory.</p>
  <p>It was a bit like that, Daichi thought.</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	we move like the ocean

**Author's Note:**

> thanks much to the people that helped me out with this fucking monster of a thing. second longest fic i've written so far and i'm just like *brain explodes*

A chance encounter brought Kuroo Tetsurou into Daichi Sawamura’s orbit his junior year of college.

Daichi, having finished his associate’s degree at a small community college in Miyagi, applied and was eagerly accepted into the University of Tokyo the spring before fall. He had also moved into a small two-bedroom apartment in Bunkyo with Sugawara the summer before classes officially began and settled into his humble abode quite nicely with his best friend.

While Daichi was nervous about the rapidly changing direction of his little small town life, Suga would be with him, and it was a reassuring guarantee that eased a lot of Daichi’s fears about living in the big city so different and so far away from what he rightfully knew.

 _Todai_ proved to be a whole lot more chaotic in layout than the modest and friendly-looking three story building Daichi had attended back in Miyagi. It was no surprise, especially when Daichi learned of the student enrollment numbers—around 30,000 students including the foreign ones attended Todai—which lead the university to have ten additional building facilities on campus, not including their main one.

In no short words, the University of Tokyo was _huge_ and Daichi was bound to get lost. 

Just the sheer enormous size of it all as Daichi walked up on his first day was almost enough to have him shout ‘ _PEACE’_ in the middle of the courtyard and pack his bags, taking the next train home to Miyagi, everything else be damned.

He had shaken his head, chuckling at the thought and immediately scrapping it.

Daichi Sawamura prided himself on never being a quitter and he was more than determined to see this through.

With a calm breath, and a metaphorical pushing up of his ‘big boy’ panties, Daichi braved this new and unfamiliar world with his head held high and his shoulders squared straight, determined to get to his first class of the new semester on time with a few minutes to spare.

Of course, it didn’t happen like that.

Daichi, laughably, got lost almost immediately, rounding corners where room numbers seemed to vanish into the ether and Daichi became one of those poor souls you see and feel sorry for—those people that walk just a _little_ too quickly up and down the hallways, over and over again, totally out of their element and aspirated, looking lost and confused as hell.

That was him.

Daichi was just about to ask someone for directions when a hand tapped lightly on his shoulder and Daichi whirled around, staring with wide eyes at the tall stranger that was looking down at him with barely held back amusement. His bottom lip was caught between a perfect pair of straight, white teeth, trying to hide his impish grin and for some strange reason, the man reminded Daichi of a feline. Or more accurately, one of those street-smart, back alley cats that you always heard hissing loudly at night, picking fights with whatever wandered into their territory.

It was a bit like that, Daichi thought.

There was something about the man that rose Daichi’s ire almost immediately. Maybe it was the look of him—smug and arrogant with his coolly cocked hip or his dark eyes that gave him a sense of mystery that he _knew_ he had and used to his advantage all the time. Or maybe it was the atmosphere surrounding him, but whatever it was, it irritated Daichi to a startling degree.

“So whatcha got?” The stranger asked, gesturing towards the schedule in Daichi’s hand with a nod of his chin.

For some reason the question didn’t quite compute in Daichi’s head, so he stood there, irritated and fed up with the day even though it was only nine in the morning, looking up at dark eyes and even darker unkempt hair, wondering what it was about this guy that he found so… _provoking_.

The stretch of silence that filled between them was long, drawn out, and incredibly awkward.

The man faked a cough and shifted uneasily on his feet, willing to sound the silence with anything but more silence.

“Can I help you?” Daichi finally asked him in mild, clipped tones, brows rising.

The man sputtered and almost choked on what, Daichi could imagine, was his own tongue. His eyes grew wide with confusion, the emotion settling in them for only a moment before something else flashed sharp in their dark depths. Daichi eyed him warily.

Surprisingly, the man chuckled to himself as if he was charmed by Daichi’s brutish behavior, and Daichi stood there puzzled, knowing he was being far from pleasant.

“No, but I could help _you_ ,” He smiled crookedly. “You passed me about three times in the same hallway, looking puzzled about ready to pop a vein. So I thought I’d come over and be my nice usual self, guide you as you should be guided.”

Daichi blinked, weighing his options because this idiot was _not_ trying to flirt with him—not on the first fucking day. He sighed, looking at the watch on his wrist and saw that he had about five minutes before his class started. Daichi sheepishly handed the man his schedule with a quiet, “Thanks.”

The man smiled slowly and nodded his head, “Ah, it’s no problem. I’ve been here long enough, so I know my way around— _mostly_.” He joked, eyeing the blue piece of paper up and down.

Daichi had expected that the guy would just point him in the right direction and let him brave the refined search on his own, but he actually ended up _walking_ Daichi to his class. Thankfully, it wasn’t too far because the walk there was so awkward, filled with the guy’s bad small talk about the common troubles people face on the first day, no doubt trying to make Daichi feel better about getting lost, but only had the opposite effect on his mood.

Daichi floundered awkwardly by the door, not knowing quite what to do or what to say. The people inside the classroom were looking at them with curiosity, only making Daichi that much more nervous.

“Hey, thanks a lot. I appreciate it.” Daichi finally said in a rush, truly meaning it as he stepped away, throwing a kind, yet quick wave over his shoulder. If the man was about to ask for his name, Daichi didn’t see it.

Daichi later learned that the man’s name was Kuroo Tetsurou when he showed up in one of Daichi’s afternoon classes later in the same day. He sat all the way in the back row with a guy that had the same kind of infuriating smirk and mischievous eyes as Kuroo did. Daichi could feel the burn of their stares on his back as he picked a spot safely in the front. Daichi didn’t dare look back.

Daichi didn’t run into Kuroo again. He was both thankful and a bit disappointed by it.

Kuroo Tetsurou simply became an enigma to Daichi.

He learned through campus gossip over the weeks that Kuroo had been at Todai since his freshman year—well known, liked, and popular—yet untouchable like the moon in the night sky. There were rumors about him that floated around too, voices hushed before the start of class and in the breaks in-between them. You couldn’t _not_ listen to them and not be somewhat curious about what Kuroo Tetsurou got up to during his free time behind closed doors.

Daichi didn’t know if he was lucky or not when he realized that he shared _another_ class with Kuroo when the tall shadow of him loomed almost menacingly over Daichi as he sat waiting for the professor to arrive and class to begin.

His lips parted in surprised as he looked up at Kuroo, whose dark eyes were bright and narrowed with a veneer of amusement that made Daichi feel incredibly uneasy as the tips of his ears immediately went hot.

Daichi waited for Kuroo to say something— _anything_ —that would make his attention shift anywhere other than Daichi who was threatening to combust from the inside out from having all of Kuroo’s attention directly on him. That stare was a hard thing to carry.

Daichi tried to ignore how oddly attractive Kuroo was from so close up and failed miserably at hiding his interest. His eyes quickly scanned down Kuroo’s lithe, yet muscular figure that Daichi could clearly see underneath a tight black t-shirt with an unrecognizable band logo, and dark wash skinny jeans with fraying holes in the denim that complimented his long legs.

 _God_ , his legs…

“Can I sit with you?” Kuroo had asked. Kuroo tilted his head in such a manner he probably thought was charming, cocky and considerate both, and Daichi found himself biting his bottom lip before realizing just what exactly he was doing and the implication behind it.

Daichi nodded his head, swallowing heavily as he looked back down towards his open notebook, various doodles filling the margins of the page. Daichi hadn’t really been aware of them when he had been drawing them, but now he was uncomfortably conscious of it. Kuroo’s watchful eyes were no doubt taking everything in; his scribbles of various deformed animals and moving stick figures in odd positions.

He closed the notebook quickly, loudly clearing his throat.

“Uh, yeah. Knock yourself out.”

Kuroo chuckled, his smile an actual real, genuine thing as he moved passed and sat his cross-body bag down with a heavy thump on the table top—Right. Next. To. Daichi.

At the time, Daichi had failed to notice Kuroo’s deliberate word choice. How he hadn’t ask _‘hey, is this seat taken?’_ like a normal fucking person would or how—despite the fact that in the four weeks since the class had started— _no one_ had _ever_ sat in the three available seats next to Daichi’s right.

Kuroo had purposely sat in the one right next to him and Daichi failed to even realize it.

* * *

 

Daichi sees Kuroo _everywhere_ after that. In the cafeteria, in the library, at the coffee shop three blocks away from campus…

It’s _ridiculous_.

Kuroo always comes over, as if he’s actually surprised by the “coincidence” of seeing Daichi yet again outside of the classroom despite the fact that his grin, crooked and cunning, tells a different story. If Daichi didn’t know any better, he’d say he was being stalked. And rather poorly.

“Hey, Daichi,” Kuroo gleams, paying particular attention to the two syllables of his first name as he voices it, sending a small unwanted shiver of pleasure down Daichi’s spine that he completely denies and will continue too.

Daichi frowns. Or he at least tries to…

He doesn’t quite feel like he’s succeeding when Kuroo looks at him like that. Like he knows every little thought Daichi thinks as it manifests in the forefront of his mind, like how begrudgingly good Kuroo looks in his leather jacket, rugged and unfairly handsome and— _shit_ , Daichi’s doing it again.

Daichi arches a skeptical brow, “We’re on a first name basis now?”

Kuroo shrugs boyishly, no care in the world apparently as he pulls the chair out opposite of Daichi and sits in it with the back of the chair pressing against his chest, arms settling on top of each other to rest against it. His boots thump against the floor loudly as he stretches them out, impossibly long, thighs spread, tops of his shoes resting near the legs of the table and rubbing up against them in a habit that is absentminded.

Daichi tries not to groan with how unfair the picture is.

“Okay, no first names… _yet_.” Kuroo teases lightly, eyes shining. “Sawamura then, you can call me Tetsu if it makes you feel any better. Everyone else does.”

_Except you…_

The implication doesn’t go unnoticed and Daichi takes a much needed sip of his latte as he shifts his eyes sideways. Kuroo seems to notice his unease and immediately speaks up, voice higher as he asks:

“So whatcha working on? Anything important?”

Daichi snorts and gives him a pointed look over the rim of his cup, his brows furrowing, aspiration at the question clear as day and Kuroo grins right back.

“No, I just have my textbook open for no reason and this notebook is just here too.” Daichi blinks, pseudo-confusion over exaggerated in the gesture. “You know what—what I am even I doing here?”

Kuroo laughs and it’s a sound that Daichi has become familiar with during the last few weeks of their acquaintance; the breathy quality of it, how the deep, sensuous sound cascades over Daichi in a wave of shivers, unable to break over them and keep his head above water.

Daichi’s lashes flutter a bit as he hesitantly laughs too, allowing himself to show his amusement for the man sitting across from him.

Kuroo drags his hand down over his mouth, as if trying to hide the genuine smile that shows between the cracks of his fingers, instead of the smug grin he’s always seen wearing and has perfected to a T.

Daichi wonders why he would need to do such a thing.

Kuroo puts his hand back down when he has his face arranged back in the way he wants it, his black nails hanging loosely over the edge of the chair. He has silver rings on both his index and ring finger and Daichi chances a glance at them, noticing how nice his hands are—big, broad, and slender fingered. 

“Well damn Sawamura, that doesn’t sound important at all, does it?”

Daichi finds the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth as he regards Kuroo with lowered lids.

“What can I say? I have another distraction that begs my attention at the moment, now don’t I?”

Kuroo visibly pauses, only to slowly lean in, his smirk growing. “Is that what I am—a distraction? How am I _so_ distracting Sawamura?”

Daichi’s cheeks flood with heat, suddenly unsure and feeling way in over his head. He doesn’t flirt like this usually—so brazen and sure of himself, as if he’s some sort of expert. Kuroo had just brought it out in him.

He back pedals fast, eyes darting this way and that, “I—I um—”

Kuroo, noticing Daichi’s distress, leans back a safe distance away again, his tone softening, “Hey, I’m just kidding.”

He gives Daichi a reassuring smile and Daichi breathes a bit easier knowing that if Kuroo had moved any closer, Daichi most likely would have said something incredibly dumb that he would’ve lamented on for many years to come in torturous mortification.

Kuroo coughs in his hand, suddenly looking uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat.

“But on a serious note, I did want to ask you if you’re free this Saturday. Me and a couple of the boys are going out to hit up the town and paint it red,” Kuroo says it with a bit of well-meaning mischief in his tone, hands expanding in a gesture that resembles an explosion.

He shrugs, “I’d be cool, you know—if you came with. That is, if you’re free and everything…which is totally cool if you aren’t—I— _everyone_ would understand.”

Daichi tries and fails pathetically at hiding the smile that curves his mouth, wide and smugly pleased. He smiles so hard it hurts his face.

“Did you…just ask me out?”

And for the first time since Kuroo sat down, Kuroo looks away from Daichi’s knowing eyes, oddly shy and unsure. He scratches at the back of his neck, pulling at the short hairs there until he realizes the nervous gesture for what it is and stops.

Kuroo barks a laugh, “It depends.”

Daichi tilts his head questioningly, eyes widening in wonder.

“On what?” He asks, flabbergasted.

“Uh, you know, whether or not you say yes.”

* * *

 

“Daichi— _Daichi_ , calm down. It’s not that big of a deal!”

Daichi would _very much_ like to beg to differ as he pulls apart various clothes hangers in his small closet with more force than strictly necessary, not knowing what is appropriate and what isn’t for his— _oh god_ —his _date_ with Kuroo.

If he can even really call it that…

It’s not like they’re going to be alone; Bokuto, Akaashi, Kenma, and Lev are tagging along too—which should be interesting given their contrasting personalities. Honestly, Daichi didn’t even know they all knew each other, let alone that they were the type of friends that went out on Saturday nights together.

It’s so like Kuroo though, managing to rag-tag the _oddest_ of people into his own little personal bubble despite the fact he’s an every man’s kind of man. Daichi finds it incredibly charming—Kuroo’s ability to befriend anyone and everything—if not a little jealous that something like that doesn’t come a bit easier to him.

Sugawara, who’s currently perched on the edge of Daichi’s bed, sighs loudly as his chin rests on his hand, watching Daichi with an aspirated expression.

“Why don’t you wear that nice sweater your mom brought for you last Christmas? It’s supposed to get pretty chilly and despite what you may think—it _does_ look good on you and compliments your skin tone quite nicely I think.”

Daichi looks over his shoulder with a skeptical look, brows rising doubtfully.

“God, my mother would cry tears of joy if she could hear you now.”

Sugawara laughs, eyes crinkling as he gets up from the bed, shrugging his shoulders. He steps right next to Daichi, hand hovering over various clothes hangers before it settles and he picks the desired one, putting it up to Daichi’s chest with an appreciative look that Daichi might have blushed at years earlier.

It’s a simple cable-knit sweater, a dark navy blue that Daichi has only worn a handful of times before, fearing it makes him look too much like his father. Not that his father isn’t a good looking guy, but yeah—no thanks.

“See, now this looks _good_. Not too fancy and not too casual. You could put that dark red collared undershirt with it and be even more handsome than you already are, _Daichi_.”

Daichi snorts loudly at the sugary-sweet way Suga enunciates his name, reminding him of how another boy says it, the only difference is that how _he_ does it makes Daichi melt from the inside out.

Giving Suga a much needed dubious side-eye, Daichi relents and goes with the sweater with a defeated sigh, grabbing the hanger out of his hand.

“Do you know where that dress shirt is?”

Suga laughs delighted as he gestures towards his room.

“He’s going to drool when he sees you.”

* * *

 

Kuroo doesn’t drool, but he comes very close to it.

Daichi can’t hide the grin on his face long enough to gloat.

They stop at the first of many bars—of course, on the insistence of Bokuto and Lev who are determined to get shit-faced drunk tonight, while Akaashi and Kenma sigh from the sidelines and nurse their drinks, conversing in hushed, judgmental whispers.

Daichi had rolled his sleeves up; right above the elbows as he was finding himself a bit overheated dressed in such a thick, wool sweater. And if Kuroo hadn’t been appreciative _before_ with his secretive looks, when Daichi did _that_ , Kuroo couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of him.

It was both exhilarating and nerve wracking—each time Daichi caught Kuroo staring at him with lowered lids, bottom lip between his teeth, dragging slowly over well abused flesh like he’d been doing the same thing all night. Daichi was positive he was blushing—but how could he not? Someone as good looking as Kuroo was interested in _him_ for whatever reasons, and Daichi couldn’t really figure out why.

Daichi believed himself to be fairly average in the looks department. He wasn’t ugly but he wasn’t drop dead gorgeous either. Daichi was simply a handsome man, nothing more and nothing less, but Kuroo’s heated glances made him feel like something otherworldly entirely—exotic, desirable, unknowable…

If anyone called his deepening blush into question Daichi had a speech prepared blaming the alcohol and the thickness of his sweater, but thankfully no one did.

Akaashi and Kenma had their hands full with ruling in Bokuto and Lev, and Daichi was grateful for the distraction as the night wore on and Kuroo deliberately tugged at Daichi’s sleeve to keep him back a step and away from all the ruckus that Bokuto and Lev were making up ahead.

They gradually shrank back from the group, just enough to see their backs and hear only snippets of Akaashi scolding Bokuto and Kenma’s loud, aspirated sighs with Lev’s attempts at trying to put Kenma on his shoulders. Their arms brushed with every step, the both of them highly aware of the point of contact that seemed to catch like fire each time they touched.

Daichi’s hands twitched every so often at his sides, so tempted to reach out and brush a curious finger along one of Kuroo’s own, wondering what he’d do…

Before Daichi could, Kuroo nudged him lightly with his shoulder, saving him from an embarrassing situation most definitely.  

“Hey, I’m really glad you came.”

Daichi bit the inside of his cheek and nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet. Not when Kuroo was so close, feeling his body heat penetrate against his side as he smelled him—a mix of axe body spray and spicy amber—solely Kuroo Tetsurou.

Daichi couldn’t help the blood that rushed to his cheeks, “I—uh—I’m happy I came too.”

Daichi couldn’t help but laugh then at how lame it was—how _obvious_ they both were without being _too_ obvious about their feelings.

Reading his mind, Kuroo chuckled along with him too, grinning ear to ear like the canary that caught the crème.

Daichi supposed he had.

* * *

 

“Hey, uh, you know, I could really use a partner to study with for the test next week. I fucking suck at remembering all those vocabulary words, you know? So you wanna come over to my place? I’ll order pizza as a thank you.”

Kuroo’s smile is blindingly wide, underlined with unspoken promises and filled with temptation that Daichi knows he can’t resist.

They’ve kissed. Just quick little make-outs between classes in stairwells that leave Daichi feeling both dizzy and hungry for more, remembering how Kuroo’s tongue had met his, teasing and coy. There’s an expertise there that Daichi is both incredibly curious about and jealous of.

Kuroo is experienced—that much is obvious, and Kuroo has hinted at it himself. Daichi thinks about those rumors, the ones that make Daichi both hot and hesitant at the thought of Kuroo potentially dominating him and setting a fire across his backside with the flat of his hand and a blooming of bruises against his throat with his teeth.

Daichi manages to pack his bag without spilling anything or without his hands shaking, which is a miracle in itself because the images of finally being truly alone with Kuroo flash through Daichi’s mind quick and unbidden. Skin on skin, dragging— _sliding_ creating wondrous friction, a hand roughly in his hair, pulling and—

“Sawamura? Yo, you there?”

Kuroo chuckles, waving a hand in front of Daichi’s face, eyes amused.

Daichi shakes his head, quickly expelling those thoughts that have dick twitching in tandem with the thump of his heartbeat.

“Oh, sorry. I—yeah sure. What time is okay for you?”

Kuroo shrugs, eyes shifting sideways in thought.

“Any time after six is cool—I have that gig at the bookstore so…I’ll text you the address.”

Daichi startles when he feels Kuroo’s hand lightly grab at his, the pad of his thumb smoothing along Daichi’s knuckles in a way that shouldn’t get his blood pumping as much as it does. Seriously, it’s embarrassing.

Kuroo is cool to the touch whereas on the other hand, Daichi feels degrees warmer. Kuroo touches him like something reverent—something to be awed and cherished—and he does this where anyone can see them and _know_ , only making Daichi want him all the more.

Kuroo smiles and it’s a slow, genuine thing that makes him look so much younger and Daichi gets lost in it.

“I’ll see you later, Sawamura.”

Daichi goes home and does everything on auto-pilot until Sugawara gets home and notices his odd behavior, hounding him for much needed answers.

“Seriously, what the hell is going on with you? What happened?”

Daichi wants to laugh at how concerned his best friend sounds over nothing as he grabs Daichi by the shoulders, shaking him as if all his answers will spill out.

“Suga, calm down,” Daichi laughs. He earns a baffled look from Sugawara who is watching him closely, reluctantly letting go of Daichi when the other man pries his fingers away, they’re like claws on his shoulders.

“Everything is fine,” Daichi reassures. “I’m just—uh, this is really awkward to say, but I think I’m getting laid in the next couple of hours.” He shakes his head. That’s not right. “Actually no—I _know_ I’m getting laid in the next couple of hours. So I’m kinda freaking the fuck out because it’s been a while and he’s…well… ”

It takes a while for it to click for Sugawara who blinks up widely at Daichi, lips parting on a soft, innocent ‘oh’ before he repeats it louder, grin growing on his face.

“Oh shit, _Daichi_ ,” Sugawara smiles, brown eyes scandalized. “Is it that same guy?—the one with the leather and tight pants? The one into whips and chains or whatever it is?” Sugawara giggles, wiggling his eyebrows at Daichi for added effect. He looks ridiculous.

“Should be interesting for you then,” His giggling turns into full blown laughter then and Daichi tries to frown disapprovingly at his best friend before he reluctantly starts laughing too at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Daichi rakes a hand tiredly through his hair, absentmindedly noting how much he needs to go get a haircut.

“Jesus, I can’t believe this. I mean, when was the last time I even bought condoms?” He doesn’t expect Sugawara to know the answer. It’s just one of those questions Daichi had asked himself on the walk home as he acknowledged that the last time he had sex was over a year ago.

Sugawara smiles at him sympathetically and gently pats Daichi on the back.

“Maybe all the more reason to, you know?”

Daichi sighs.

“From what you’ve told me about him, he seems like a nice guy that _genuinely_ seems interested in you. I mean you guys have gone on plenty of dates already—he didn’t have to do that if he _only_ wanted inside your pants, Daichi.”

Daichi looks at Sugawara blankly, shaking his head, “Those weren’t dates Suga, we just went to lunch and sometimes caught a movie and…” Daichi weakly trails off and he immediately notices that what he is describing sounds _very much_ like a date.

Sugawara gives him a pointed, dry look.

He hums, “That’s what I thought.”

* * *

 

Daichi arrives at Kuroo’s apartment ten minutes after six with soda for the pizza and his backpack in toe, shifting the weight back and forth awkwardly on his feet.

Kuroo answers the door with a wide, award winning grin, inviting Daichi in and graciously taking the soda bottle from his hands as Daichi passes through the threshold, quickly trying to take off his shoes, sitting them down next to Kuroo’s black lace-up boots.

Daichi doesn’t hide his interest in Kuroo’s living space. It’s big for just one person and Kuroo answers his unspoken question without Daichi ever having to ask it.

“Bokuto and I have been roomies since our freshman year in the dorms. Moving in together seemed to make perfect sense when we decided to look for a place off campus.”

Daichi nods, simply impressed by how _clean_ everything is despite the two who live here. Kuroo’s apartment is charming in a simple kind of sense; it feels lived in and loved. There are pictures and knickknacks around the house that Daichi doesn’t quite get but knows they make sense and mean something to the ones who actually reside here.

Daichi hopes, one day, he understands the meanings behind them too.

“Bo is over at Akaashi’s, so it’s just us.” Kuroo adds softly, knowingly, over his shoulder, eyes glowing as he puts the soda away in the fridge.

Daichi tries not to blush, suddenly not knowing what to do with his bag or his body in general. He flounders around like a fish, out of his element.

“Sit anywhere—make yourself comfortable. I already ordered the pizza so it should be here pretty soon,” Kuroo calls from inside the kitchen, voice pleasantly carrying. “So while we wait you can teach me some clever tricks to remembering those vocab words, because I really do fucking suck at them.” Kuroo jokingly laughs; the sound incredibly charming and boyish, making Daichi’s stomach fill with butterflies, the fluttery kind.

School work, Daichi can handle, not all _this_.

He sighs, working his bag over his head and setting it down on the couch to sort through the insides of it. In the corner of his bag are shorts, underwear and a t-shirt Daichi had thrown in there last minute, debating with himself whether or not it was necessary. His pathetic, wanton desperation had won out in the end.

“Okay, so we’re going elementary with this. Old school, always in the end, works the best with me so I made you some flashcards, all sorted by their different categories and whatnot—”

Daichi is intimately aware when Kuroo comes back into his space.

Something about the air changes, Daichi really isn’t sure, but Kuroo is hard to ignore with his—well, with his _everything_. Daichi has realized that there’s nothing about Kuroo physically that he doesn’t like. He likes that Kuroo has a clear advantage when it comes to height, standing at least a half a foot taller than Daichi. Likes his constant bedhead hair, even though he’s pretty sure Kuroo styles it that way just to say he wakes up looking _that_ perfect every morning. The fucker.

Daichi sighs for the umpteenth time it seems today.

 “Everything alright?” Kuroo asks skeptically, brow rising in concern as he collapses on the couch, throwing his arm casually over the back of it.

Daichi’s head lifts quickly, eyes staring wide before he shakes his head, lip between his teeth in aggravation.

He can’t find the note cards.

“Y-yeah, I just— _fuck_ —I can’t find…” His laugh is a forced thing as he searches through his bag, inwardly cursing himself. In his distraction, Daichi managed to leave the note cards laying right on the edge of his bed, and instead packed a change of clothes for when he’d finish having sex with Kuroo because his priorities are fucking _amazing_.

Daichi cards fingers back through his hair with a shaky laugh, “I left them on my goddamn bed, oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

Kuroo whistles and it’s a low thing. He sits up from his slouch with a well-meaning smile, hands spread in a placating gesture.

“Hey, it’s okay. I mean, we still have the pizza coming so not all is lost okay? It’s alright.” He says the last part softly, easing Daichi’s nerves a bit as he gestures for Daichi to sit down too. And he does, gratefully—sitting close, but not too close, just enough distance away that has them flirting with the possibility of touching knees.

It’s fun watching Kuroo pretend he doesn’t notice the space—like he’s not itching to close it and be that much closer to Daichi. Daichi figures that he’s been made to sweat enough today, deciding that it’s finally Kuroo’s turn.

Daichi presses his thigh against Kuroo’s, slow and deliberate, a sensuous rub of denim against denim.

Kuroo eyes gleam, immediately recognizing the game for what it is, noticing the stubborn set of Daichi’s shoulders as he holds his body with resolute conviction not to be the first one to give in.

“You know,” Kuroo begins. His voice tantalizingly low as if sharing a secret, beckoning Daichi even closer with sweet tones so he can more accurately hear. Daichi just barely manages to resist the temptation.

“If I’m being completely honest, I didn’t invite you over for the sole purpose of studying anyways,” Kuroo says it with a crooked grin, leaning slightly into Daichi’s space. “Guilty as charged. How horrible am I though?—I’m so lame—but it was the only way I knew how to get you over here, because believe it or not Sawamura, I don’t know how to act around you. It’s frustrating to say the least.” Kuroo snickers, grin flickering nervously.

Daichi feels himself go warm at the knowledge that Kuroo is just as affected by him as Daichi is by Kuroo. Satisfaction listlessly drifts down into the pit of his stomach like a feather swinging back and forth towards the ground, fanning out through his arms and legs to envelop his whole body in an unseen iridescent glow. 

Daichi licks his lips, mouth parting on a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding.

“Well I could say the same for you…You leave me…” Daichi pauses, trying to find the words. “You leave me feeling just about _everything_ Kuroo Tetsurou—all of it unfamiliar, intense, and simultaneous—and I—I kind of want to punch you in the face for it because it’s not fair. You’re distracting…” Daichi confesses, looking up at Kuroo with vulnerable, yet brave eyes, determined not to back down and shy away from what he knows he wants.

“And I can’t afford distractions, but I think…I’ll make an exception for you.”

It’s almost like art; how Kuroo’s face seems to change and shift expressions with Daichi’s confession spoken in such delicate, soft tones, the words honest and intrinsically true.

Everything opens like a book for Daichi to read and memorize as he sees his own want and desire reflected back at him with such transparent clarity, among other things, Kuroo is allowing for Daichi to see. It is intimate—the look they share—and despite the fact that Kuroo is showing all his cards, he doesn’t move to crowd them back against his chest again to keep Daichi from seeing his hand.

Kuroo is amazingly honest and open and wants Daichi to _see_ it. To _know_.

The next breath Kuroo takes seems to rattle his bones all the way down to the marrow as he licks his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down gently.

He gapes, “You—god I—you’re fucking _perfect_ Sawamura. _Jesus_ , every part of you, I just—”

Kuroo doesn’t finish his thought. Daichi doesn’t let him before he’s finally on him, both hands cupping Kuroo’s cheeks and bringing his mouth down onto his own in a heated display of want and urgency.

Daichi feels Kuroo’s breath hitch inside his throat, before a loud, sinuous moan resonates against Daichi’s mouth and he parts his lips, greedily swallowing the sound down with his own answering groan to Kuroo’s lips. Kuroo pushes back then, insistent and eager, brow furrowing with how passionately he’s kissing Daichi, tongue enticing and teasing all at once with clever licks to Daichi’s upper lip, asking for entrance.

Daichi suddenly finds himself overwhelmed by the intensity of his feelings and how Kuroo seems to poke and prod at him just enough to have him blazing with need. Daichi vaguely acknowledges how long it’s been for him since he’s done something like this, impulsive and rash, based solely on his ever growing need not just to have a body moving in sync with his own, but _Kuroo’s_.

Kuroo’s body on top of his, next to, below—it doesn’t matter how or where. Daichi just wants to feel it— _bask_ in it—savor it to his heart’s content.

Leaning back against the couch, Daichi beckons Kuroo to follow with his fists clenched inside the dark fabric of his shirt, demanding and impatient with his tugs.

Kuroo separates himself from Daichi’s mouth with a wet, wrecked sound, breathes coming heavy as he chuckles roughly at Daichi’s impatience, delighted by it.

His eyes are incredibly fond when he says, “Hey, you’re going to stretch out my shirt.”

Daichi grins, licking at his lips, “Then get the fuck out of it.”

Kuroo blinks down at him, eyes wide like he can’t quite believe Daichi is here—under him and completely more than willing—that he actually exists.

Daichi is a bit mortified to note that he fucking _giggles_ when Kuroo makes haste of his shirt with a curse, rising briskly on his knees to shrug the damnable thing off, and chuck it somewhere over his shoulder without even so much as a look back. His eyes are too fascinated with Daichi beneath him, relaxed and looking absolutely gorgeous with that red flush painting over his cheeks.

“Wait—stay like this for a minute,” Daichi exhales shakily. He unapologetically takes in Kuroo’s toned stomach and muscled chest now that he’s allowed too and tries not to drool at how fucking attractive Kuroo is without a shirt on. Daichi’s eyes land on and follow a tempting trail of dark hair that sadly disappears under the waist band of Kuroo’s jeans.

Daichi licks his lips.

“You like what you see baby? You can touch you know—I want you too.” Kuroo smirks, grasping Daichi’s hand and placing it on his right pectoral muscle before slowly dragging Daichi’s hand down his chest, feeling his breath and how it quickens, to his abdominals that tense under Daichi’s fingers when he takes back control of his hand and teases skin with light, feather like touches. He enjoys how Kuroo’s eyes lid and how his hips twitch subtlety when Daichi moves his hand until his fingers rest against the waistband of those jeans, flirting at the dip.

A coy index finger works its way over the denim, tugging mildly with force.

“Come here,” Daichi says on a sweet, enticing sigh, lip between his teeth as his thighs spread, coaxing Kuroo to move in-between them.

Kuroo swallows. The sound is audible.

“Shit, we’re really doing this, okay— _fuck_.”

Daichi laughs as Kuroo drops onto him, hands on either side of his head as lips attack the defined jut of his jaw and neck, peppering bites and kisses both that have Daichi’s chuckles turning into breathy moans.

Hands instantly seek out Kuroo’s back, groaning in appreciation when he feels muscles shifting like water under his palms. Daichi works his hands lower, curving over the dip of Kuroo’s ass and grabbing defined handfuls, fondling and squeezing, bringing their hips together in a slow roll.

“ _Mnn_ , Kuroo,” Daichi eyes close in rapture as he does it again, cock straining in his pants and he feels as if his insides will melt when he feels Kuroo’s cock, just as hard, meet his own.

Kuroo exhales loudly by the lobe of Daichi’s ear, working it between his teeth as he rocks down harder, sighing in ecstasy.

“God, the things I want to do to you…”

Daichi moans louder at that, at how out of breath Kuroo already sounds despite the fact they haven’t even really done anything—that it’s because of _him_.

Shifting his head and nuzzling sweetly against the side of Kuroo’s face, Daichi deliberately sets his lips next to Kuroo’s ear, feeling bold as he whispers, “Oh yeah? What do you want to do to me Tetsurou?”

Throwing his head back, Daichi grins triumphantly when something sounding similar to a punch in the gut wheezes out of Kuroo’s lungs in a pained gush. His curse whooshes against the side of Daichi’s neck, making him pleasantly shiver all over as Kuroo’s hips rut into him shakily, pushing Daichi’s body up by in increments over the couch.

“Mmm, fuck—I can already tell you have a mouth on you—a fucking _nice one_.” Kuroo lifts up on his elbows facing Daichi, smiling wildly, his eyes ecstatic. “That’s good—that’s fucking _amazing_. Gonna make you talk for me baby when I finally fuck you. I’m not gonna tolerate any silence coming from you Sawamura. Got that?”

Daichi’s back shoots up off the couch with a groan. “ _Jesus_.”

Hands, bigger and broader than Daichi’s own slip under the material of his thin sweater, greedily tracing and caressing over the defined jut of his hips, up over his undulating abdomen, before Kuroo bunches up the fabric and pushes it under Daichi’s armpits, groping at Daichi’s chest, plucking at his nipples.

“You like that baby? The idea of me holding you down and making you sing for me? How each time I’d push my cock in you’d whine for it _deeper_ , _faster_ , and my absolute favorite— _oh more, please._ ”

The speed of their hips picks up each time pure, unadulterated filth spews out of Kuroo’s mouth like the darkest of poetry. It’s almost painful with their jeans on, but neither of them stops grinding against each other, already so close.

“ _Fuck_ —your mouth.” Daichi breathes in something resembling awe, hand sliding up the entirety of Kuroo’s arched back and entangling fingers in inky black hair, bringing his mouth up while pushing Kuroo’s down to meet his in an explosion of heat and hunger.

The kiss is sloppy, tongues meeting and sliding against each other’s every time the angle of their heads shift, wet smacking noises filling the living room and adding more fuel to the fire already blazing in Daichi’s blood.

He breaks away with a gasp when he starts coming, teeth clenching and eyes squeezing shut as Kuroo achingly takes him through it.

“ _F-uck_ —fuck—ahhhh—”

Daichi’s hips involuntarily arch up and jerk in quick circles, soaking the front of his jeans each time a shutter passes through him.

The sensation is amazing and it’s been so long since Daichi has allowed himself to have it. He grasps onto Kuroo just to feel him fall apart too, knowing that he’s the cause of his utter loss of control and absolutely loving it.

The feeling Daichi gets from that is almost a possessive one and he immediately extinguishes that sensation, burying it somewhere deep, deep down.

Kuroo laughs delightedly against him when they’ve managed to breathe down just enough air not to choke and hold a semi coherent thought that doesn’t involve how much they want to do it again, but with less clothes.

“Shit—I haven’t come that hard in like, all my life and my dick wasn’t even out— _fuck_.”

Daichi laughs with him, basking in the afterglow and how heavy his body feels. It’s quite except for their breaths, evening out and meeting each other’s rhythm for rhythm, almost completely lolling Daichi to sleep if it wasn’t for the uncomfortable mess in his pants.

Daichi blinks sleepily, “Hey, Kuroo?”

“Hmm?”

“Where’s the pizza man?”

Kuroo stiffens, lifting on his elbows to regard Daichi with wide, blinking eyes before he grins.

“Well, you weren’t exactly quiet Sawamura, which I have no complaints about— _none at all_. But the pizza guy on the other hand—”

The all the blood drains from Daichi’s face at the implication. “Oh my god—”

“—was probably like ‘nope, don’t get paid enough for this shit’ and left with the pizza.”

“Oh my god.”

Kuroo chuckles as he leans back down to nuzzle against Daichi’s neck and give the skin there an open mouth kiss. “Yeah, you probably said that a couple of times too.”

* * *

 

It’s seven in the morning, Friday, when Daichi, as quietly as he can, walks through the front door of his apartment, dropping his bag by his shoes, simply too tired to carry it all the way inside his room and dispose of it properly.

Daichi yawns, loud and long, tears springing to his eyes as he drags heavy feet towards his room and shrugs off his t-shirt, throwing himself down onto his bed with a strained but pleased sound.

Everything is sore—the good kind of sore—the sore that will remind Daichi of all the sleep he _wasn’t_ getting last night with Kuroo.

Daichi smiles sleepily into his pillow, nuzzling into it as he remembers how good Kuroo made him feel, how his mouth and his words alone made Daichi _burn_ , how his touches had been confident and self-assured, how when they really got into it, Kuroo would show his strength and man-handle Daichi in every-which-way, striking something unknown within Daichi that he had not thought he liked.

It hadn’t been selfish—Kuroo’s hands as they gripped his hair tight or held his hands together, lifting them above Daichi’s head with an unspoken demand for him not to move them. Daichi remembers Kuroo watching him closely whenever he did something like that—like he was gauging Daichi for a reaction—wanting to know if what he was doing was liked or not.

It dons on Daichi then, the rumors he had first heard about Kuroo being into, well, the BDSM scene that maybe gauging for reactions was something Kuroo _had_ to do when he was doing that kind of stuff with people…

Daichi suddenly has the urge to ask Kuroo about it, but honestly Daichi’s a bit embarrassed about it. What would he even say? _‘So Kuroo, do you enjoy whipping people and spanking them? I only ask because there have been these rumors going around school that you’re pretty good at it…’_

Daichi falls asleep on that thought, chuckling at the outlandishness of such a question as he slips into dreams about skin, sweat, and friction.

The next time Daichi wakes—which feels like only seconds later—there is an unmistakable sound of someone calling out his name and shaking his shoulder to rouse him awake.

He shifts away from it, grumbling, shaking his body in hopes that whoever is trying to wake him up will get the hint and leave him alone.

“Fine, be that way. Just wanted you to know that your Friday afternoon class starts in about 30 minutes—I was trying to be _nice_.”

It’s almost comedic how quick Daichi wakes up. The mention of ‘class’ and ‘starting in 30 minutes’ has Daichi springing out of bed and leaping over towards his dresser where he pulls it open and picks the first shirt he sees lying there, working it quickly over his head.

He can hear Sugawara laughing behind him. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth and put some deodorant on.”

Daichi smiles thankfully at Sugawara, “Thanks for waking me, Suga. I was totally out of it.”

Sugawara snorts, “Yeah, I know. I was shaking you for the past minute, thought I was going to have to get a blow horn or something.” It’s then that Sugawara’s eyes narrow in curiosity; the mischievousness in them is absolutely frightening.

“You know when you get back you’re going to tell me all the juicy details of what you got up to last night—and don’t you dare skimp out either! I can tell he did a number on you. I’m almost jealous.”

Daichi feels the tips of his ears heat, purposely not looking at Sugawara as he rubs deodorant under his arms.

“Suga…”

Sugawara grins, backing slowly out of Daichi’s room, leaving him be… _for now_.

“ _All_ the details Daichi. I look forward to it!”

* * *

 

It’s embarrassing but Daichi almost feels like he’s in middle school again with his first “real” crush. It’s that feeling of ever-present butterflies in his stomach and how he can never stop smiling whenever he thinks, sees, or hears Kuroo. Only the experience is so much better because his crush likes him back.

Daichi and Kuroo start seeing a lot of each other after the first study-break-turned-into-great-gonna-come-screaming-sexcapade that lasted until about two in the morning.

And they have more of it.

Oh god, do they—a bunch of times in Kuroo's bed, against the wall, on the couch, in the shower, on the floor (which they decide not to do often because rug burn sucks no matter how raw and passionate fucking on the floor is). Honestly, Daichi has never been happier with all the sex he’s come into with Kuroo. He is just as addicting as the first time and Daichi’s not sure he could ever tire of him really.

When they start dating goes unsaid a couple of weeks after the fact. It’s just something they know without having to discuss it. Neither one of them make it this big thing when Kuroo starts holding his hand as they walk around campus, waiting in between breaks for their classes to begin, or how Daichi starts keeping three sets of spare clothes over at Kuroo’s in addition with a tooth brush.

Daichi is thankful for how smooth the transition goes—how it could have been so awkward—but they’re both incredibly low maintenance individuals, only clarifying something with words when it truly needs to be said. Some people, Daichi surmises, wouldn’t like that approach when it comes to being in a relationship with someone, but it works especially well for them.

The only thing Daichi wants to voice his concern to is something he’s been wondering about Kuroo for the past couple of months.

They’re sitting on Daichi’s bed this go-around, actually being good students and doing their homework on either side of his queen sized bed, allowing room for textbooks to be spread out as well as legs and feet.

Daichi’s been finished with his work for over ten minutes now, watching Kuroo struggle cutely with his calculus homework, nose scrunched up, eyes pinched with contempt and aspiration both. Kuroo’s going to school to become an engineer and math, unfortunately, comes hand in hand with the degree. Daichi is thankful he’s a psych major.

“Stop looking at me like that. You’re making it harder.” Kuroo grumbles, pouting childishly. He taps agitatedly on his knee with a number 2 pencil, the pink eraser all the way down to the nub.

Daichi snorts at the double meaning Kuroo’s words hold and smiles lecherously. “I would hope so. Not doing my job right if it’s not, yeah?”

The insistent tapping at Kuroo’s knee stops as he blinks and looks up at Daichi with wide, awed eyes.

He looks impressed.

“When did you become such a pervert, Sawamura?” Kuroo begins, slow grin gracing his dark features. “Color me shocked.”

Daichi rolls his eyes, hand coming up to circle Kuroo’s ankle and rub indulgently at the bone there, the sweep of the pad of his thumb reverent as well as practiced.

Lids lowering, Daichi says, “If anything it’s your fault, you’ve corrupted me.”

Kuroo’s smirk is absolutely devilish when Daichi says it. Daichi knows Kuroo takes great pleasure and pride in the fact that he was the one who inspired Daichi’s ‘sexual awaking’ as he likes to call it. Daichi just happens to believe that he and Kuroo fuck like magic—and so of course he would want more in any way he can get it.

“Is that a complaint I hear?” Kuroo gently closes the textbook on his lap, tossing it carelessly to the ground where it lands with a loud thump. Daichi is happy about the fact that Suga isn’t due home for another hour.

Kuroo’s voice pitches low as he says, “You like me corrupting you Sawamura—makes you feel all nice and _dirty_ —and we both know how you are when you’re filthy, don’t we?”

When Kuroo speaks like that, in low flirtatious tones, Daichi can’t help how his breath picks up with anticipation, heart thumping louder and louder inside his ears.

Kuroo drifts closer to Daichi, crawling on his knees before he’s close enough to work a hand through Daichi’s hair, pulling just tight enough at the roots for Daichi to be satisfied, and bringing him in for a kiss.

When he’s had his fill, Daichi parts from him with a wet sound, brushing his lips open mouthed over Kuroo’s, delighting in how his breath halves at the enticing caress.

“You need to finish your homework.” Daichi reminds him on a heavy exhale, recognizing they’re on the brink of becoming too hot and heavy and when that happens, nothing can get them off of each other.

Despite what his body wants, Daichi knows Kuroo needs to finish the last of his calculus problems. He’s been having an issue with the material ever since the beginning and has missed class one too many times for his professor to be lenient with him. It’s for the best.

Kuroo groans, sagging into Daichi’s body with defeat, head lolling on Daichi’s broad chest.

“Why don’t you just put me out of my misery already?”

Daichi kisses the top of Kuroo’s head in sympathy, a soothing hand running up and down his back in loving strokes. “I’m sorry but I like you too much to do that. And I think I’d miss you too.”

Kuroo chuckles, the sound muffled against Daichi’s chest, “ _Babe_.”

Daichi rolls his eyes, teeth clicking. “Oh shut up.”

He can feel Kuroo’s smile, “But you’re just so cute. I can’t help it.”

“Get off me and do your homework already.”

* * *

 

It’s right before winter finals that Daichi manages the courage to ask Kuroo about his… _extracurricular activities_.

They’re walking back from the coffee shop a couple of blocks away from campus, a break much deserved from all the studying they’ve been doing in the library trying to prepare for finals.

Daichi is nervous to ask, the question seeming almost like an intrusion of something incredibly private, but Daichi is curious.

A week ago, Daichi had been looking for Kuroo’s condoms and his infamous black bottle of lube while Kuroo stood spread out over the back of his couch, panting and whining, waiting to be filled as Daichi rummaged quickly through his drawers. He had been eager to get back to Kuroo before they missed their window of opportunity and Bokuto came home from his afternoon classes.

Daichi had found things that gave him pause. Various different types of gags and collars, black and red rope, as well as elongated silicon devices that weren’t dildos but most definitely served the same purpose of keeping someone stuffed and filled. To Daichi, if he turned his head, they almost looked like... _tails_.

A pang, feeling something like a dull ache, traveled up and down Daichi’s body, settling heavily in his balls as he regarded the curious toys. Daichi stared at them for a long moment, surprised that he found himself _responsive_ instead of turned off like he originally thought he would feel.

In the end, he did not say anything to Kuroo about it, settling to mention it later when he wasn’t dick deep in the other man, determined to make him lose his mind like he so often made Daichi lose his.

Later however, happened to be now.

Daichi braves a quick look at Kuroo before turning back to look out at the sprawling city before him. The street probably isn’t the best place to have such a conversation, but Daichi doesn’t know these people. He doesn’t care one way or another if one of them overhears a snippet of their conversation as they walk past, never to see either Kuroo or Daichi again.

“Hey, Tetsu?”

Kuroo’s dark eyes shift to him, quickly swallowing his sip of coffee before he says, “What’s up babe?” His cheeks are a ruddy red from the cold and unforgiving winter wind, lips chapped and hands uncomfortably dry. Daichi’s worried the skin is going to crack and bleed. He vaguely makes a note to buy some hand lotion and chapstick from the store.

Daichi scratches uneasily at the crown of his head, “I totally understand if I’m being annoyingly intrusive or whatever—you can tell me to mind my own business and fuck off, but um—” Daichi trails off uncertainly, cheeks flushing, something that has nothing to do with the cold weather.

Kuroo frowns in confusion, brow arching questioningly. He reassuringly squeezes Daichi’s hand in his.

“I’ll let you know if you’re being ‘annoyingly intrusive,’ but I doubt you could be.” He smiles, and it’s the genuine, sweet lift of his mouth that makes Kuroo look years younger that always has Daichi’s heart skipping out of beat. Daichi would do anything to receive that look forever and always and have it be solely his.

Kuroo nudges Daichi playfully with his shoulder, “Out with it, Sawamura.”

Daichi mirrors the same smile back, only a bit shakier as he takes a calming breath.

“I just—there’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you about.” Daichi laughs nervously, “Fuck—okay, that thing you do…with the—ah—rope and the collars and stuff…” Daichi hangs in the air, suddenly not knowing where the fuck he’s going with his. He looks up at Kuroo to make sure he hasn’t fucked up royally and finds Kuroo watching him with a considering, calm expression, waiting for Daichi to finish his thoughts.

Daichi hurriedly turns back around, staring holes into the back of a random woman’s red pea coat as his steps gradually slow.

“Before we met, there were all these rumors going around about it and I didn’t pay it much attention because I didn’t really know you back then, but then, that one time over at your house when I was looking for—ah, well you know— _the stuff_ —I found some of your things.”

Kuroo slowly nods his head, expression now unreadable and that scares Daichi a bit.

He covers fast with, “I swear I didn’t mean to snoop, it just—”

“Does it bother you?” Kuroo interrupts him thoughtfully, eyes looking directly into Daichi’s as they both stop walking at the same time right in the middle of the sidewalk, a flood of people parting like the red sea, enclosing Daichi and Kuroo in their own little world.

Daichi’s eyes widen almost comically, shaking his head back and forth, hands rising to emphasize his point of _not_ being bothered by it.

“No, no! I was just curious about why you never said anything about it, especially if you enjoy doing it.”

Kuroo shrugs, the motion stiff and jerky, stuffing his hands inside his coat pockets and looking sideways.

“It’s not something that a person just brings up in normal conversation Sawamura,” Kuroo gripes. “‘Hey, I like tying up pretty boys and girls and greatly enjoy making them beg _me_ to make _them_ come’” Kuroo makes a face, “C’mon, I would have totally struck out with you.”

They earn themselves a couple of scandalized looks for that, which makes them both laugh, easing the tension a bit.

Daichi good-naturedly smacks him on the side of his arm, “Well of course you would have if that was your goddamn opening line. I mean, why didn’t you say anything when we were well into our relationship?”

Kuroo sighs tiredly, “Sometimes the fact that I do it freaks people out and makes them uncomfortable, I don’t know. I dated this girl once, I really fucking liked her and when she found out, she broke up with me because she thought I was a ‘sadistic piece of shit’—her words exactly—‘that’ and I quote, ‘liked to beat women to get off’.”

Daichi can’t seem to find his next breath as his gaze sharpens on Kuroo’s face, fists clenching by his sides, and mouth pinching in anger at the girl that made Kuroo afraid enough not to come and share this with him.

He stares resolutely at Kuroo, the honestly in gaze almost blinding. “I would have _never_ done that to you.”

Kuroo smiles at him, sincere and incredibly fond as he takes one of Daichi’s clenched fists and unfurls it with care, thumbs caressing over his knuckles.

“I know,” He says softly, bringing Daichi’s hand up to his lips and turning the appendage over to kiss at his palm. “I know,” He repeats again, “And I fucking adore you all the more for it.”

Daichi makes a pained sound at that, tips of his ears going incredibly hot.

“Oh my god, _Tetsurou_ —you’re so embarrassing,” It doesn’t sound like a bad thing however when Daichi says it with such fondness.

Kuroo chuckles and drops his hand, but doesn’t let go. They start walking again, noticing the dirty looks they’re getting from passersby, apologizing with semi-sympathetic looks but not fooling anyone.

Kuroo snorts a laugh, “This is so funny though—you were too nervous to ask and I was too afraid to tell.” Kuroo says in obvious ironic amusement, swinging their hands lazily back and forth until Daichi gives him a severe, pointed look and he stops.

After a moment Kuroo says, “You know, if you’re curious about it I can educate you—it’s nothing like what people say it is—I only do something if you _want_ me too. We can do something simple, nothing heavy until you want it— _if_ you want it. And if you don’t, that’s fine too.”

The thing is, Daichi believes it and it pulls at his heart strings a little too tenderly at hearing Kuroo sound so shy and unsure. Daichi will never understand or forgive how someone could be so cruel to Kuroo for doing something that he genuinely enjoys, especially when he’s _always_ so considerate and careful about other people’s feelings.

Daichi nods his head, finding that he really, truly wants to share this with Kuroo—that he has for a while now. “Yeah, I’d like to learn about what you do, I really would.”

* * *

 

They plan the scene out for an evening when the two of them have nothing scheduled and the possibility of something random pulling them away is low.

Daichi and Kuroo have talked about the etiquette of the scene at length; what Daichi doesn’t like, what he’s absolutely not willing to do, what he’s very much eager to try, and lastly, what Kuroo expects from him, giving Daichi a choice of either _sir_ , _master_ , or _daddy_ to address him by. The latter makes Daichi blush all the way up to his ears, scandalized but horrifyingly enough, considering. In the end, he settles for _sir_ and Kuroo teasingly pouts, disappointed that Daichi didn’t pick _daddy_. The idea of calling Kuroo _that_ sticks with Daichi far longer than what he would like.

They come up with a safeword after spending five full minutes joking about what it could be until Kuroo has tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, demanding that Daichi take his wellbeing more seriously.

After not much thought, Daichi settles on the last name of his high school principle, the one with the wig that landed on his head after that freak volleyball incident that almost got his team suspended. He cannot _not_ immeaditly be horrified whenever hearing that name, so it will suffice.

Kuroo’s instructions for him had been given to Daichi by text the night before.

The message was quick and to the point, not a text Daichi believed, that he was supposed to respond too.

Per Kuroo’s instructions, after his class Daichi was to come over to Kuroo’s apartment, wait for him there inside his bedroom, completely naked except for a pair of sheer thigh highs and a collar wrapped snugly around his neck, on all fours, back arched. Kuroo said the items would be waiting for him on the edge of his bed.

_The collar is to remind you who you belong too, who you come for and when… The thigh highs are just because I’m a huge pervert and your legs are a sin. One I’m very much willing to go to hell for indulging in._

Daichi had shivered, just thinking about it.

When he gets out of class, Daichi takes his time getting to Kuroo’s apartment, knowing that Kuroo isn’t due home for another couple of hours, as he has work.

Bokuto, no surprise, is nowhere to be found when Daichi opens the front door.

It makes Daichi happy how incredibly considerate and understanding they are as roommates towards one another, allowing the other space when they need the apartment to themselves for whatever reasons.

Daichi sighs as he enters the house with the spare key Kuroo had made for him, instantly put at ease when he breathes deep and Kuroo’s scent fills his nose, spicy and earthy, and making Daichi miss him all the more.

He plops his bag down by the door knowing Kuroo won’t mind it, placing it right by his sneakers and socks.

With a held breath, Daichi walks back to Kuroo’s bedroom and softly, almost respectively, shuts the door behind himself, anticipation making him both giddy and nervous. He almost feels like an intruder despite the many times he’s been a guest in Kuroo’s house.

Daichi has no reservations or doubts about this. He trusts Kuroo, completely, more than willing to put his body and wellbeing into Kuroo’s care knowing that the other man will treat it well.

Daichi undresses slowly, folding his clothes and putting them in a neat little pile on the chair Kuroo has in the corner of his room. On the bed, just like stated, is the thigh highs and collar Daichi is to wear. Black, smooth leather is the collar with a small silver lock dangling from the front, showing ownership.

The idea of it makes Daichi ache.

He is gentle when putting the collar on, clasping it around his neck and feeling with the pads of his fingers the difference between his skin and the material of the collar, how cool it is against his skin, making his nipples harden in response.

Daichi puts on the stockings on next, taking care to pull them up newly shaved, defined legs and not have them rip or tear under his hands. The sheer material feels like a dream made into flesh on his skin, soft and incredibly pleasant wrapped around his muscular thighs and calves, and Daichi rubs his legs together indulgently, admiring how they look on him, hoping Kuroo finds them just as pleasing.

Daichi exhales a breath and crawls onto the bed then, facing the front and putting a deep arch into his back as he waits for Kuroo’s arrival, bottom lip between his teeth, almost leaping out of his skin from the anticipation alone.

He doesn’t know how long he waits there. It feels like hours upon hours have passed, but Daichi knows that isn’t the case.

Daichi pulls into a deep stretch to put some relief on his back. It’s when his arms are stretched out in front of him, joints popping, forehead pressed to the duvet, that Daichi hears the door unlock and he immeaditly goes back into a deep arch, heart beating erratically in the cavity of his chest.

He can hear Kuroo casually whistling, walking around the apartment like he doesn’t know that Daichi is in his room, naked and wanting—like it’s just any other normal day.

There’s a panicked moment, when Daichi hears Kuroo start speaking, that he thinks Bokuto has come home, but in all actuality it’s Kuroo talking on his phone, taking his sweet fucking time too might Daichi add.

He resists the urge to call out and tell Kuroo to just get in here already, but it’s not in his place to do so, so Daichi keeps obediently quite, waiting patiently.

The end of the phone call has Daichi perking up expectantly, heart racing again as he hears Kuroo’s feet pad towards his room and he makes sure that he’s as alluring as possible, hoping to make Kuroo proud of how good he is being, that he followed through.

The door opens with a soft creak as Kuroo swings the door open and regards Daichi from the archway, not quite coming in yet as he basks in the moment, telling himself to take it all in, not to miss anything so he can remember it later in vivid detail.

Kuroo’s eyes are dark, molten things as he runs the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip, incredibly thoughtful.

“Hey, baby. You miss me?”

Daichi’s lips part, waiting for Kuroo to give the go ahead before he nods his head, a soft ‘yes’ spilling out sweetly between his lips.

Kuroo clicks his teeth in indignation, shaking his head back and forth as he _tsks_ with each movement.

His eyes go stormy, “Yes, what? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten baby. Punishment is met for boys that can’t behave.”

Daichi almost curses.

He had forgotten to address Kuroo properly.

“Yes sir, I’m sorry sir.”

Kuroo hums pleased, deep and low, walking towards Daichi like a predator would size up a gazelle or a zebra to sink its teeth into for a meal; slow, purposeful, and full of intent. Daichi quakes under that look, hands fisting in the material of the duvet to ground himself from reaching out and doing something stupid.

Kuroo walks around the bed like a shark circling with blood in the water, taking in Daichi’s side profile; the beautiful arch of his back, muscles on full display, his ass, perfect and round, and his legs, powerful, thick and elegant with the thigh highs accentuating them. Kuroo’s mouth dries instantaneously, completely awed and feeling blessed about the allowance he’s been given to do this with this gorgeous man.

Kuroo takes a step closer and flattens his hand on Daichi’s upper back, feeling his shutter as he moves it down at a leisurely pace, tracing the elegant arch of Daichi’s back, and leading to the dip of his ass where he teases the possibility of a touch but doesn’t fall through. Daichi’s breathing has already deepened by the end of it and that pulls a triumphant grin from Kuroo, highly pleased with the reaction.

“Did you stay in this position for me the whole time? Were you good for your master, baby?”

Daichi arches his back even harder, nodding his head, “Yes sir.”

The laugh that flows out of Kuroo’s mouth is just as much sinuous as it is devious, telling Daichi that he isn’t going to make this easy for him. The bastard.

Daichi has to bite his lip and suck it into his mouth to keep from smiling.

“Oh really? The whole time?” Kuroo’s voice is lined with amused skepticism, calling Daichi’s bluff as a hand works deliberately gentle through his hair, pushing it back before roughly grabbing a handful and giving the roots a sharp, firm tug.

Daichi’s breath hitches in excitement, lashes fluttering, pulling away from the pull in a need to have it ache more.

“I don’t believe you baby,” Kuroo leans down, whispering hotly inside his ear. “You know why? Because you’d be shaking, sore with it, and you’re as still as steel pole on a windy day. You lied to me baby. And do you know what I do to boys that lie to me?”

Daichi almost whimpers, wanting it so much.

“No sir,” He says, deliberately naïve. His body tells the opposite with how it writhes in Kuroo’s grip, unable to keep still, knowing what comes next.

Kuroo grins crookedly, “I spank them until they’re crying and begging me to stop.”

Daichi makes a pained sound at that, feeling how his dick twitches, how his whole body seems to thrum like it’s just waiting to catch fire.

Licking dry lips, Daichi arches more, sticking his ass out further as he tries to beckon Kuroo with coy eyes under lowered lids. Despite Kuroo’s almost untouchable disposition, Daichi knows bit by bit it’s getting to him—he can’t resist when Daichi acts like this—wanting and eager, so close to begging for it like he has so many times before.

He wiggles his ass out a bit, hands clenching at the edge of the bed, “Please spank me, sir.”

The utter satisfaction and heat that gleans clearly in the dark depths of Kuroo’s eyes when Daichi asks for it is enough to have a small sound ushering out of Daichi’s mouth at the complete depravity of it all.

“Oh?” Kuroo asks lightly, like he isn’t already rock hard in his pants, eager to just pull out his cock and rub it all over Daichi until he’s covered with his come. “You wanna be spanked bright red? Wanna beg and cry?—is that what got you? Well okay, I’m feeling a bit generous today.” Kuroo states with a perfectly impassive shrug, lifting up on his heels to work the leather jacket off his shoulders and throw it on the chair along with Daichi’s things.

He gestures Daichi up on his knees, “Let me see you first though. I’ve only gotten a side view so far.”

Daichi spreads his thighs over the soft duvet intentionally, rising up slowly to watch how Kuroo’s breath visibly halves as he presents himself in the most alluring manner he can. His cock bobs half hard, filling steadily, excited by the sensation of being exposed and enjoying the perverse nature of it with someone he adores and trusts deeply.

Kuroo’s hand reaches out and delicately traces over Daichi’s cheek, sliding down the jut of his jaw towards his neck where the collar rest prettily around his throat and Kuroo plucks at the lock on the front of it with a fond chuckle, eyes crinkling.

“You look like every wet dream I’ve ever had.” Kuroo traces slowly around the collar, hand sliding further to caress down Daichi’s shoulder, fingers feather light as they make indistinguishable patterns over Daichi’s sensitive skin.

Daichi bites his lip, “ _Please_.” He timidly begs, hurting with how much he wants this—how much he aches with need.

Kuroo’s grin turns even sweeter, enjoying Daichi’s desperation as much as his own need to fulfill and sate it.

“So pretty—how you beg.” Kuroo settles back on the edge of the bed, clapping his knees with relish, spreading them a good distance.

“Well let’s get to it then. Lay across, your belly on my thighs.” Daichi obeys with a rush of breath, shifting and shuffling awkwardly at first, moving to lie across Kuroo’s thighs, feet behind him as Daichi adjusts to having them bent. His feet settle on the floor as he lifts his ass high in the air, wiggling it a bit for good measure, taking pleasure at how the teasing elicits a low sound from Kuroo.

Daichi doesn’t know how much he’s blushing but he knows it’s hard—he can even feel the heat radiating from his face and his chest, hoping that Kuroo just believes it’s just from gravity, the blood inevitably rushing to his head.

Daichi squirms, prone and venerable, waiting for the strike and jolts in anticipation when Kuroo’s palm presses against the defined curve of Daichi’s ass and spreads it flat, rubbing smooth circles over Daichi’s rump, fingers curling and dragging over the sensitive skin where ass meets thigh. He sighs shakily, shifting mildly on his toes.

“How many do you think you deserve?”

Daichi balks, “I—I don’t know.”

The slap comes unexpected. The fleshy sound echoing throughout the room and Daichi’s eyes widen in surprise and in pain, losing his desired position for a moment before he regains his footing on the carpet and arches his back once again. He exhales a soft sound, grabbing a more firm hold of Kuroo’s pant leg as the burning hot handprint throbs in tandem with Daichi’s rapidly growing heartbeat.

“‘I don’t know, _sir_ ,’” Kuroo corrects for him, tutting. “I think fifteen is good.”

Daichi squirms a little bit more, cock rubbing insistently against Kuroo’s thigh, no doubt leaving a damp wet spot. He tries to prepare himself for the next smack, but finds himself incredibly lacking.

The second slap sends all his thoughts straight into the back of his mind as Daichi gasps, bottom lip caught between both rows of teeth as the second handprint overlaps the first one. He releases his lip with a loud groan; head hanging low as Kuroo goes back to back, not allowing Daichi the time to recover as he lands the third slap on the other cheek.

His ass involuntarily clenches and Daichi earns himself another one for it.

“Take it,” Is all Kuroo says, low and burning. “You’re allowed to rub your cock on me if you want, just don’t come.” The implication of what will happen if he does is clear enough not to have Daichi taking advantage of this particular liberty. He nods his head dazedly, an appreciative sound escaping him as he spreads his legs wider. The shaky little thrusts of his hips have Daichi mewling pathetically small sounds at how hard his cock is from such rough and humiliating treatment, and all from Kuroo’s hand.

Daichi loves it.

Kuroo allows him a few seconds of indulgence before the next strike has Daichi crying out and snaring Kuroo’s pant leg inside his fist, knuckles turning white, teeth clenching, and eyes squeezing shut. Kuroo’s nails trace over the reddened skin, dragging up and down, squeezing and stroking in alternatives to bring feeling back to Daichi’s skin.

“Breathe, baby, breathe,” Kuroo softly strokes over his hair and Daichi arches up into it like a cat seeking out the touch of its master’s hand, needy and desperate—wanton.

The next slaps come in such a quick succession that Daichi loses count after eight. It’s simultaneously the most wonderful and horrible thing he’s ever felt.

Daichi whimpers, tears coming to his eyes as he raises his ass higher, legs spreading obscenely wide as Kuroo’s broad hand dangerously flirts with the idea of slapping at his hole, and Daichi is both parts grateful and infuriated. Grateful because Daichi is sure if Kuroo did land one of those slaps right against his ass he’d come in an instant, and infuriated because Kuroo _-fucking-_ Tetsurou is a teasing little bitch and he knows it.

Daichi starts sobbing when it feels like the smacks against his ass, and occasionally his thighs, will never end. Kuroo is relentless and his hands are just big enough to hit about every sensitive area within the span of his palm and his fingers and Daichi fucking _hates him_ —wants him so goddamn much he can’t fucking breathe and—

“Fifteen,” Kuroo announces proudly with one last final slap, rubbing over Daichi’s well abused ass with care, fingers running along the back of his thighs, to dip and dwell teasingly at the crevice between his cheeks. His other hand pets down Daichi’s sweaty, trembling back, soothing away the tremors with light touches.

“You did so well Daichi—you took it so well. God, you—you’re amazing.” Kuroo nuzzles the back of Daichi’s neck affectionately, pressing soft kisses to his skin, voice having gone back to its regular adoring tones once again. This is as far as they planned to have the scene go for tonight.

A nice starting point on their way towards bigger and more depraved things.

Daichi can’t wait to be honest.

Daichi sniffles, allowing himself to catch his breath and bask in how sore he feels—how used—noticing belatedly how much better he can breathe.

Kuroo gently pulls Daichi into his arms, his thighs on either side of Kuroo’s waist as he leans his head heavily on Kuroo’s shoulder and breathes him in.

A small, delighted laugh flutters out between Daichi’s lips as he turns his head to look at Kuroo with hazy, heated eyes. Kuroo’s face melts into one of content and happiness when Daichi stares at him, eyes crinkling fondly around the corners as he sighs and strokes over Daichi’s face with saccharine and deferential fingers, smoothing back Daichi’s damp hair, allowing him a clearer view of his face.

Kuroo’s mouth works wordlessly; the words he wants to say but can’t are nullified right on the tip of his clever tongue, unfortunately lost to Daichi.

His mouth opens once, twice more as a look of troubled distress appears and then disappears just as quickly as it came, making Daichi wonder if he ever saw the flicker of emotion at all. Kuroo’s lips press together before he releases them with a heavy, controlled exhale, corners of his mouth lifting in a reassuring smile but not quite falling through.

“I—I think I’m in love with you,” Kuroo begins, looking so painfully shy and venerable that Daichi wants to crowd Kuroo to his chest and never let him go. Daichi’s eyes widen and his lips part on a breath that doesn’t come for him. His heart feels like a small, fragile thing threatening to break at the too soft, too sweet words meant solely for him.

 _God_ —Daichi doesn’t feel like he deserves such a man’s love or care, because Kuroo doesn’t have to say he loves him for Daichi not to already know it in how careful he is with his touches and his kind consideration for him.

Kuroo rushes in quick, “You don’t have to say it back—I don’t expect that _at all,_ you know that—but I needed to say it because I— _Jesus_ , I’ve never felt this way about another person before and you’re just—you’re _everything_ to me Daichi and _you need to know_ —”

“I love you too,” Daichi says in a flurry of words, the sounds elongating and merging together in an unstoppable rush of emotion that befalls over Daichi’s being. His cheeks are incredibly hot with the flush he can feel traveling down his chest and shoulders and he doesn’t care. Not one bit.

Daichi’s eyes lid as he drops his brow down to Kuroo’s, cupping his face in his hands longingly, thumbs rubbing back and forth over the defined lines of his cheekbones.

“I love you.” Daichi whispers, the softest he thinks he’s ever been, sharing a secret only meant for the two of them to hear, for them to cherish later on with knowing glances and soft touches. His eyes lift to look straight into Kuroo’s own dark ones to show the other man he means it—that he feels it just as much, debatably even more so—that he isn’t alone in this and that he will never will be.

“The biggest mistake of your life Daichi,” Kuroo shakily jokes, breath coming almost too quick for the calm he tries to feign. “Now you’re never going to get rid of me.”

Arms come up to circle around Daichi, strong, capable hands feeling up and down his back before settling to wrap over his shoulders and pulling him impossibly closer. Daichi easily goes into him, wiggling closer on his knees and shifting his arms to rest tightly around Kuroo’s neck.

Their mouths hover over each other’s, brushing and basking in the electric tension whenever their skin touches for even a moment.

It’s addicting, the feel of him.

Daichi bites his lip into his mouth and watches how Kuroo’s eyes follow the movement, blood roaring newly all throughout his body again.

“Don’t wanna be rid of you, you idiot,” Daichi breathes hotly, nudging his nose against Kuroo’s, slowly undulating his hips as the weight and hardness of his own cock suddenly becomes an un-ignorable thing this close in proximity to Kuroo.

“I want you,” Daichi sighs, finally meeting Kuroo’s mouth with the softest of kisses, savoring the taste and feel of him on his lips. Kuroo makes a faint noise of pain/pleasure against Daichi’s mouth, hand flattening on the low of Daichi’s back as he encourages the sensuous roll of his hips and Daichi feels that hand burn into him like a brand, leaving a mark and carrying warmth he’ll always feel deep inside.

Daichi pushes harder against Kuroo’s mouth with a needy sound, brows furrowing as their tongues tentatively meet and then retreat, allowing for their lips to touch and taste again, heads angling accordingly, practiced in the ease in which they shift to meet over and over again.

Daichi needs more.

Daichi breaks away with a wet smack of a sound, lips attaching to the jut of Kuroo’s jaw, laving his tongue over smooth skin, the hint of an aftershave apparent on Daichi’s pallet and he smiles when he feels Kuroo shiver.

 “Take your clothes off,” Daichi mutters, closing his teeth around the jut as his eyes flicker up hotly to Kuroo’s matching ones, showing his need. “I need to feel your skin against mine.”

Kuroo’s hands come off Daichi’s back in a blur of motion, fingers impatient as they tear at his shirt and lift it off, throwing it somewhere to his side.

Daichi doesn’t think as his own fingers slip against Kuroo’s neck, creating a silky path of fire in their wake, following the defined jut of Kuroo’s collarbone, exploring milky white skin only a few shades lighter than his own honeyed tones. He delights in how Kuroo trembles as his hand travels lower, towards his rosy red nipple, smoothing over it with careful fingers only to drag the blunt of his nail over the sensitive skin as he watches it pebble.

Kuroo groans, lashes fluttering wildly as his hips jolt into Daichi’s and grind hard against the swell of his ass. Daichi’s breath hitches in anticipation at the feel of his cock—at the memories it inspires of Daichi being pinned and split open, fucked with such a satisfying brutality that he couldn’t bend over later without a soft, pained sound ushering unbidden between his lips. He rubs back on Kuroo’s cock just as hard, the both of them building a rhythm, breathing heavy and hard, his own cock leaking and rubbing up against Kuroo’s stomach with every shift.

It’s unsustainable—they both know that, but neither one is willing to stop. It feels too good.

Kuroo bites at his bottom lip, trying to hide how his groans have turned into wispy whimpers, “Daichi— _baby_ , _please_.”

Daichi nods his head in understanding, communicating that it’s getting to him too. That he needs Kuroo just as much as Kuroo needs him.

He gives one last lingering kiss to Kuroo’s lips, unwilling to part just yet. Daichi delights at how they open so easily and eagerly for him, before he rears back and steps out of Kuroo’s lap, making sure to display his legs which are still tightly encased in the sheer black stockings, outlining his quads and calves, the power of them showed off in such an elegant and enticing way.

Kuroo’s hands follow him, running up and down Daichi’s thighs, squeezing and molding their shape to Daichi’s skin all with wide, astonished eyes, like Kuroo can’t quite believe he exists and that he’s his to touch in this way.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Kuroo says, and it amuses Daichi to no end that Kuroo has forgotten his own discomfort inside his jeans with Daichi in front of him like this. Daichi laughs softly, both flattered and smug. He allows Kuroo his fill of touches before he gently grabs his hands and sets them back flat on the bed.

Daichi moves to undue the button of Kuroo’s jeans, knuckles brushing faintly against the bulge of Kuroo’s cock, smiling when Kuroo inhales in the form of a hiss. Daichi lowers to his knees, pulling both the jeans and boxer briefs off Kuroo’s hips, down over muscular thighs, to just watch them slide down easily over his calves and pool on the floor.

With a heavy gulp, Daichi looks up, saliva accumulating quickly in his mouth at the sight of Kuroo’s cock standing straight up, red and flushed at the head, thick and veiny running along the shaft towards the base and it’s the biggest thing Daichi has ever had inside his mouth.

Kuroo must know what Daichi plans to do, because in the next moment he’s making a pained, keening noise deep inside his throat, flinging himself back onto the soft duvet of his bed with his forearm hiding his eyes.

“ _Fuck_ —don’t look at me like that—especially when you’re down _there_. _Jesus_.”

Daichi is more aroused than amused by Kuroo’s reaction, fanning a deliberate breath, humid and hot, against his twitching cock.

The sound Kuroo makes is almost like a wheeze, hips jerking up, thrusting blindly into the cool air and Daichi makes a sound of his own. Watching Kuroo steadily break apart is a high like no other.

“Put your mouth on me,” Kuroo coolly begs, finally removing his forearm and easing his head up, cheeks flushed and eyes scorching.

He bites at his lip, “You know you want too.”

Daichi can’t deny that. He loves watching and hearing Kuroo whenever he does this, the power and exhilaration Daichi gets out of it is rewarding in itself in a way he never thought it could be.

He nudges his cheek against Kuroo’s cock, feeling it pulse against his skin before his tongue peaks out and licks along the side. Kuroo is trembling, mouth wide open, eyes closed in rapture and it’s just what Daichi wants to see.

He takes hold of the base, dragging his tongue _filthy_ along and under the sensitive head of Kuroo’s cock and rubbing quickly back and forth, taking each bead of pre-come that eases out of Kuroo’s cock like his own perverse kind of reward. Daichi engulfs the whole head into his mouth with a loud, muffled moan that’s half him, half for Kuroo’s benefit, as he loves hearing Daichi mewl and beg around his cock and Daichi does it more than willingly for him.

“ _Oh fuck_ —you—you’re so _good_ —” Kuroo groans, thighs tensing and spreading wider where they’re hanging limply off the bed, toes curling.

Daichi hums in agreement, taking more into his mouth as his hand starts stroking, speed picking up along with the wet sounds of Daichi’s mouth bobbing up and down Kuroo’s cock. Daichi’s own knees spread wide on the floor, hips seeking any kind of relief as they thrust weakly into open air, cock dripping and making a small wet spot on the carpet he’ll apologize later for.

Right now, pleasing Kuroo takes top precedence—and not to brag or anything, but Daichi thinks he’s doing a pretty bang up job. His jaw is sore but Daichi perservers, ignoring the mild discomfort as he watches as Kuroo’s back arches, his hands pulling at his hair, only to move to fist the sheets when the relief isn’t enough.

Kuroo makes a sobbing sound when Daichi takes him all the way in like a goddamn expert, jaw opening and relaxing, taking him all the way back into his throat with a practiced ease Daichi is proud of and it’s all thanks to Kuroo.

Kuroo gasps, “Fuck— _fuck_ —stop, stop—I’m gonna fucking come—” Kuroo breaks off on a shout, gritting his teeth with a brutal grind that makes Daichi inwardly wince at the sound of it. Daichi pulls off immeaditly with a small cough, wanting Kuroo to finish in him when he’s thrusting deeply inside Daichi, and only then.

Lips find the inside of Kuroo’s thigh and kiss up and down the length of it, waiting for Kuroo to catch his breath and composer at being so high without the payoff of tumbling off the edge, and he can tell Kuroo’s thankful, not wanting to come before Daichi and have him wait to get hard again.

Daichi nuzzles his nose against Kuroo’s thigh when fingers softly comb through his hair, adoring and grateful, and Daichi’s eyes fall closed for a moment too, trying to cool down and not run the possibility of coming the second Kuroo touches him.

“Where’s the lube?” Kuroo asks dazedly, shuffling towards the right and making room for Daichi to crawl comfortably on the bed too.

Daichi laughs, rolling his eyes, “This is your room.”

Kuroo blinks, “Oh yeah, okay— _fuck_ , I’ll just get the lube then.” Kuroo rolls on his side and stretches for the bottom drawer of the night table by the front of his bed where he keeps his condoms, lube, and toys—most of which have been used on Daichi until he was begging and crying, remembering nothing but Kuroo’s name.

The memories make him tingle.

“Hey, Kuroo?”

Kuroo’s facing away from him, fishing through the drawer. “Yeah baby?” He says distractedly, cursing under his breath when he realizes he’s too far away from where he’s lying down on his stomach to grab the lube, so he wiggles up a bit further with a long, suffering groan. He looks like a worm.

Daichi smiles.

“Fuck me without a condom on this time.”

Kuroo jolts impossibly still, the black lube bottle in his hand now, as well as the condom between his index and middle finger. He looks back at Daichi with a shocked look, as if he didn’t quite comprehend what Daichi just asked of him.

“I mean, unless you’re uncomfortable with it.” Daichi quickly corrects, feeling oddly shy, hands nervously ringing together.

“You know I’m _more_ than comfortable with that idea Daichi,” Kuroo says strangely calm, eyes severely serious, and there’s curious tilt to his voice that has Daichi shivering. “I just want to know that you’re okay with it—that it’s what _you_ want.”

Daichi arches a brow, snorting loudly, “I just asked you didn’t I?”

Kuroo drops the condom soundlessly back in the drawer, glint to his eyes that gives Daichi courage. He walks over as sexily as he can on his knees to Kuroo, prompting him to roll over on his back as Daichi lifts a knee and settles on Kuroo’s hips.

“Oh?” Kuroo says with a lecherous grin, hands pausing in the air like he doesn’t quite know where to put them first. They settle on either side of Daichi’s hips, squeezing and running his fingers up and down Daichi’s sides.

Daichi can feel himself blushing again as he tentatively grabs the bottle of lube and pops the cap open, squirting good amount on his fingers and rubbing them together to warm the liquid before he even tries to get them inside. It’s bold—what he’s doing now. Despite the many times in which he’s ridden Kuroo’s cock to sweet orgasm, Daichi is always a bit shy when starting out in this position, but that shyness soon evaporates when Kuroo starts to grab at him and look at him like he needs Daichi to simply _breathe._

“You’re doing all the work tonight,” Kuroo says in mere observation, childish pout etching over his mouth. Daichi laughs shakily as his hand works behind himself, rubbing at his hole back and forth before he spreads his legs and starts easing a finger inside.

“I thought you liked it when I unashamedly take charge and take what I want.” Daichi argues, noticing how Kuroo’s breath has sped up to match his own, how his hands soothingly rub up and down Daichi’s thighs.

“Oh, believe me I do,” His bright, almost blinding smile proves. “I just had this idea that after I spanked you bright red, I’d bend that perfect ass over and put my lips against it.”

Daichi shutters, eyes lidding at the delectable image that shoots through his head: Kuroo pressed closely right between the cheeks of his ass, the flat of his tongue licking sinuously in broad strokes over his hole, his mouth giving Daichi the filthiest of kisses, tongue fucking into him nice and deep, Daichi rocking back on it, begging for more.

To his own horror, Daichi makes a high whining sound, shifting back against his fingers, the digits pumping steadily in and out and picking up pace.

Daichi swallows thickly, “Well you’re just going to have to wait your turn.” Daichi says weakly and it’s Kuroo’s turn to laugh then.

His hands move back, circling around Daichi’s hips as they encompass his ass, still throbbing dully with all the slaps it received earlier, and squeezing.

“I could do that,” Kuroo wonders out loud, watching Daichi’s with rapt eyes each time his face even so much as changes when his fingers hit a pleasurable spot, licking slowly at his lips. “Or I could just eat you out after…clean you out, feed my come back to you and make you swallow it.” Kuroo ponders with a devilish edge to his mouth, extremely pleased with himself with how it makes Daichi’s eyes widen, scandalized at such an idea.

“Don’t think I’ve ever done _that_ before…”

Daichi clenches his teeth and traps a moan behind the back of them, knowing that Kuroo just might do it if he feels so goddamn inclined.

“How the fuck can you say things like that?” Daichi groans in frustration, though it doesn’t sound _at all_ like a bad thing to his own ears. The _beyond_ lewd idea actually has Daichi morbidly curious. Kuroo just manages to bring the ‘freak’ out in him. Daichi never remembers being this kinky or even having an idea that he was in the first place before Kuroo.

“Hmm, but you like it.” Kuroo says with a smug grin.

Daichi shifts slightly, trembling as his fingers curl inside, rubbing over his insides. He drops his head with a moan, weakly shaking it back and forth. “No, I don’t…”

Kuroo softly snorts; the fondness in the sound almost too much for Daichi to bear.

“No, you don’t—you _love_ it.”

 _You love me_ , is what Daichi hears.

He gasps then, arching his back when his fingers find his prostate and with pure willpower and strength alone does Daichi manage to remove his fingers, needing Kuroo’s cock—needing to come—as he reaches behind himself and grabs Kuroo in hand, stroking indulgently before angling him forward and Daichi down and back with a roll of his hips.

They both moan at the first touch of Kuroo’s hot cockhead against Daichi’s hole, pressing slowly inwards to finally breach Daichi, and the stretch is a tense, familiar one as Daichi gradually sinks down, small sweat breaking out against his chest at the exertion of keeping himself up until he’s ready to take more.

Kuroo softly caresses him through it, tracing his hand down Daichi’s arm until his fingers interlock with Daichi’s own to give him something to grasp onto and squeeze in both a show of his support and reassurance. He brings the back of Daichi’s hand to his mouth after a moment, murmuring sweet, quiet words onto his skin.

Daichi whimpers, slack-jawed and flushed as he wiggles down further, feeling the pressure grow as his body is met flush with the thick base of Kuroo’s cock. The stretch is always an overwhelming one and Daichi swallows, thick, licking his lips as he trembles above Kuroo, experimentally rocking his hips back and forth.

“ _Ah_ ,” Daichi moans a small thing, angling his head up as he anchors his hands flat against Kuroo’s chest. He lets his eyes flutter to a close and feels his pulse pounding in every part of his body in conjuncture with the throbbing heat embedded within him.

Daichi never feels more alive than in these moments, every breath and every part of his body he is aware of with a startling clarity—it’s exhilarating—and so he laughs, teeth gritted and spine trembling, he laughs.

“ _Daichi_ ,” Kuroo gasps, his thighs visibly shaking with the effort of keeping his body still. His hands enclose around Daichi’s hips, the blunt crescents of his nails digging into Daichi’s skin, showing Kuroo’s impressive restraint at not just lifting Daichi up and slamming him back down on his cock over and over again like he so very much wants too. And god, does he want too. Daichi is just too beautiful, too perfect, and a bunch of other things Kuroo can’t quite articulate when Daichi is seated on his fucking cock like it’s his own personal throne and he’s the sole reigning king over one, Kuroo Tetsurou.

Kuroo pants hotly against the sheets, already looking positively wrecked, “Baby— _baby_ —please move—I can’t—”

Daichi takes pity on him only because he sees his own want and utter desperation in Kuroo’s smoldering eyes reflected back at him. Daichi nods his head eagerly in understanding, shushing Kuroo as he lifts his hips slowly, biting back a small needy sound behind his lip, and then sinking back down, rutting shamelessly against the thick base of that cock that fills him so wonderfully.

“ _Jesus fuck_ ,” Kuroo wheezes, gripping Daichi’s hips hard and spreading his legs to anchor his heels into the bed, needing something to ground him because he’s so close to floating off and never being found again.

Kuroo’s head flings back in a mess of dark hair, eyes closing in pure ecstasy and Daichi is astounded by the simple sight of him looking so lost and so unmade. Daichi wants to find him, wants to put him back together again.

“F— _uck_ —don’t stop, don’t ever fucking stop—” Kuroo breaks off with a sharp gasp, groaning low and Daichi feels the vibrations of it in the marrow of his bones.

“ _Tetsurou_ ,” Daichi moans, repeating the movement again and again, faster and faster, until he’s bouncing on Kuroo’s cock, wet noises and the loud slapping of skin on skin only spurring him on from there. It feels so good—so impossibly good—and it’s not meant to last long and they’re both okay with that, needing the other in the basest way possible right now, in this moment.

Daichi cries out and goes rigid when Kuroo’s fist circles around his dark red throbbing cock and starts vigorously pumping, squelching noises loud and lewd, and painting Daichi bright red. He squirms wildly, speared on Kuroo’s cock, thrusts faltering from feeling both extreme pleasures on either end, overwhelmed and not sure whether or not he wants to seek it out or push it away.

He whines, curling in on himself over Kuroo’s chest. “ _Hah_ —you’re gonna make me come.” Daichi can feel it building, right behind his balls, the almost painful tingling sensation of an impending earth shattering orgasm.

Kuroo must like this because he grins crookedly, licking showily at his upper lip as he pants harshly, “ _God_ , I wanna fuck you until you’re crying,” Kuroo starts moving his hips then, heels planting themselves on the bed in replacement for Daichi’s stopped motions, and Daichi can do nothing but sit there and _feel_ , grasping onto Kuroo with restless, greedy hands.

“ _Oh_ — _oh god_ —” Daichi’s head flings back, mouth open wide on wordless pleas as Kuroo pounds into him, jiggling the flesh of Daichi’s ass with every joining of their bodies, and Kuroo grunts with the exertion.

A rough, possessive hand snares in Daichi’s hair, making him gasp and arch back at the pull, back bending and deliciously hitting that spot inside Daichi that makes him sob, stars shining behind his eyes.

“ _‘S_ good, yeah?” Kuroo asks out of breath, eyes gleaming. “Gonna make you come? Cause I need you to come Daichi.”

Daichi shouts, deliriously nodding his head down at Kuroo’s imploring eyes, “Yeah, yeah—just—ah fuck— _fuck_ —your fucking cock—”

He can feel it, the crest of a wave lapping at his insides ready to spill over and he allows it too. It’s almost like an epiphany or a religious experience when he lets go, body seizing, heart stopping, breath catching, as he spills intensely over Kuroo’s chest and his own stomach.

Distantly he hears Kuroo groan like a dying man, hips stuttering at the squeeze of Daichi’s body around his, how it squirms and dances around him, and in no time Kuroo is falling right after Daichi, sinking his teeth into his shoulder to suppress his shout.

Daichi trembles, muscles in his thighs visibly shaking, and he knows without feeling that Kuroo’s come is flooding into him, marking him up from the inside. The thought makes Daichi whine, overstimulated as Kuroo pumps weak thrusts into him, allowing for him to milk Kuroo for all he’s worth.

He collapses on top of Kuroo right after, shivering from the stimulation, and Kuroo’s arms wrap tight around him, protective and adoring, steadying him. Daichi, in that second, can’t help but think: _this man loves me, he loves me so much._

“You’re so beautiful, so amazing,” Kuroo whispers in his ear, hand gently carding through his hair, the other one rubbing down his back as Daichi catches his breath.

They lie together like that, joined, until Daichi starts feeling Kuroo soften inside him and they both help to ease him out of Daichi, not even a moment later, Daichi feels the essences of Kuroo ooze out of him and he makes a face.

“Ugh, it’s so nice in theory, but afterwards…” Daichi murmurs, shifting accordingly to lay next to Kuroo’s side rather than on top of him.

Kuroo chuckles, the sound hoarse. “I still kind of want to flip you over and eat it back out of you.”

Daichi groans, covering his face with a single hand, both disgusted and mortifyingly turned on, because only Kuroo could make something that gross of an idea sound so appealing. It only reaffirms how absolutely _horrible_ he is and how much Daichi loves him.

“You’re not doing that, especially if you want me to kiss you after.”

Kuroo shrugs carefree, side-eyeing Daichi deviously, his hair even more wild now. It’s a good look, the Kuroo who’s just had really great satisfying sex, flushed and gorgeous, and it’s all Daichi’s now.

“My mouth has been in worse places.”

Daichi gives him a pointed, dry look, propping his head up with the corner of his arm. “And I wonder how I still tolerate you.”

Kuroo snorts, lazily shifting his body to rest on his side, arm sliding over Daichi’s waist, bringing him closer despite the heat of their bodies. “You _love_ me.” Kuroo says soft and low, still awed by the revelation, by Daichi, even after all this time.

Daichi smiles, bringing his hand up to caress Kuroo’s cheek, fingers sliding over the curve to rest under his chin. A come-hither motion beckons Kuroo closer and he goes eagerly, sighing content against Daichi’s mouth as he kisses him, drowsy and sweet.

“More than anything.”

They kiss until they can’t, falling asleep with the thought that this is just the beginning for them, looking forward to all the things that will come later.


End file.
